


In the still of the night...

by KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls



Category: Star Wars
Genre: Fluff, Other, Smut, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 03:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17014989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls/pseuds/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls
Summary: Follow up to >Join Me?, which originally had been a one-shot in my Star Wars: Ficlets and Other Things collection.





	In the still of the night...

Snail pace toward the mess-hall, the first thing you get is a cup of caf once there. While you wait for the machine to dispense your drink, you catch him swaggering your way, his expression as confident as his walk.   
“Morning.” Poe’s lips lift into a cocky smile and you quirk a brow.   
“What’s that for?” You pace towards your squadrons sitting in the back corner of the hall, Poe falling in step with you.   
  
“Nuthin’.” His smile doesn’t let up and your head tilts in a ‘whatever’ way. His hands disappear into the pockets of his utility pants and he rocks on the balls of his feet. “Alright. I was thinking... rematch.” Poe wiggles his brows and you snort out a laugh.  
“I doubt you have enough leave left for a fair wager. Or enough clothes on for that matter.” You eye him knowingly.  
Hollered ooohhhs accompany loud laughter, your squadron and Black Squadron deriding Poe full force but he doesn’t seem to care.   
“Looks like I’m not alone in that.” Poe drags a look over you, and you stand jaw slacked for a moment. Kriff, that man is confident.   
  
He’s not wrong, though. But the last few days have been so damn humid on D’Qar that you’ve decided to ditch uniform jacket and dress shirt, opting for a simple tank top you’ve tucked into your pants. If you’d still been part of the New Republic Naval Defense Fleet, you’d not hear the end of it. But things are a little laxer in the Resistance. As long as you’re doing your job and at least show up to mission briefings in full attire, command doesn’t really bat an eye. There are more important things that require attention than lack of proper threads.  
  
“You do remember [Y/N] won last time, right?” Jessika points out and Poe shrugs.  
“I had time to practice.”  
Again, loud laughter comes from all sides and Poe smiles another cocky smile.   
“Can’t wait to get undressed, huh, Poe?” Temmin slaps Poe’s back so hard, you can hear the air getting pushed from his lungs and you laugh.  
“Hmmmm...” You eye Poe top to bottom. You wouldn’t mind another chance seeing him bare ass naked but before any of you can agree on anything the alarms go off and everyone makes a run for the hangars.  
  
General Organa is already waiting with orders once you get there. “One of the smaller settlements has been attacked. Assistance requested. Commander Dameron, you’re to take lead at counter strike. Commander [Y/L/N], you’ll be assisting medical. Make sure they get their feet on the ground to help the injured. The transmission was unclear as to who it is, but...” General Organa trails off but you know she means to be prepared for the worst.  
  
A firm “yes, General” then you’re on your way to your respective X-Wings, hastily throwing your flight-suits over whatever you’re wearing before climbing into the cockpits of your machines.   
“Stay sharp, Commander.” You hear Poe before the canopy closes and you nod.  
“You, too, Commander. May the Force be with you.” You say into your com-tech sensa-mic, a crackled “and also with you” the response.  
  
Preflight check is automatic and fast. All you’re waiting for are the coordinates to destination. The second you receive them, you’re off. Five hyperspace jumps later you reach the planet with the settlement under attack.  
  
“I don’t see anything!” Karé’s voice comes over the secure comm-link and Poe confirms.  
“Iolo. What do your eyes pick up?”  
“Nothing, Commander. Could be a trap.” The Keshian points out.  
Poe makes a growling sound. Discontent at the situation. “Commander [Y/L/N], take your squadron two clicks east. Scouts on the ground first. Black Squadron remain in orbit.”  
“Take it you’re going to fly over.” You state and Poe confirms.  
“Radio silence until you hear from me.” Poe commands and everyone confirms.  
  
Your Squadron and medical transport do as told, landing in a clearing about two clicks east. You instruct half the scouts that had flown with medical to stay behind and secure the area. Two of your pilots, too, including Iolo. “Stay sharp, Captain! Remember, radio silence until you hear from Commander Dameron.” You instruct and everyone confirms with nods. You gesture for Sergeant Mesota, the NCO in charge of ground troops, to take lead and make your way to the settlement.  
  
Once you reach the wooded outskirts, Mesota signals to spread out in teams of two, one officer paired with one scout each team. Macrobinoculars at your eyes, you scan the settlement’s access points and your head sinks with a frustrated sigh. “What the hell is he doing?” You whisper, line of sight returning on a human male approaching the settlement from a path south.  
Sergeant Mesota adjusts his MBs to see what you’re talking about and is barely able to bite back a laugh. “Well, that’ll be a story to tell.”  
  
You shake your head and scan the surrounding area. “I don’t think it’s First Order.” You point to a small beat-up freighter close to the entry of the settlement, and the sergeant agrees, examining the freighter from afar with his MBs.  
“Holy shit. That’s a YU-410 light freighter. The only one I’ve ever seen is in a holoflat my dad had on his desk. That thing is at least thirty-five years old. Pirates, maybe.”  
“It definitely looks the part. They must be desperate to come this far out. There’s nothing of value here.” You think out loud and Mesota agrees with a nod. You scan the freighter one more time and count two guards in tattered clothing at the ramp. “How many can it carry?”  
The sergeant thinks for a moment, schematics on recall. “Four crew, twelve passengers. Maybe fourteen if it’s been modified. So... total of eighteen at max.”  
“You sure?”  
“Yeah. Even with mods, the oxygen filtration system wouldn’t be able to support more than that.”  
  
“Kriff. That’s still eighteen too many.” You cuss, then focus back on the human male still approaching the settlement. “He must be aware.” You whisper.  
“I’m sure Commander Dameron has accounted for modifications,” Mesota assures but you shake your head.  
“That doesn’t explain why he’s walking up there half-naked and wet.” You keep your sight on Poe, only now becoming aware of the blaster tucked into the waistband at the back of his standard issue briefs.  
  
Poe stops. Arms raised, he starts talking, but you can’t hear what is being said. You are sure though that he’s putting on his best charming smile because that would just be so him in a situation like that. A quick scan, you take count again. Two more guards seem to have come out of nowhere, small blasters pointed at Poe. From the side, you feel Sergeant Mesota nudging you.  
  
“I count eight,” he whispers, and you adjust your MBs.  
Indeed, there are eight. Two at the ramp of the freighter, two at the entry creeping towards Poe, four spread out on rooftops. “Kriff. Kriff kriff kriff.” You scan the area again, a mirrored light blinding you from across. It takes a moment for your sight to clear. “Looks like Lieutenant Jeron found a good spot.”  
“Lieutenant Willix, too.” Mesota points to another spot in the thicket.  
Your attention back on Poe, you still see him talking, blasters still aimed at him. He drops his hands to his waist, inching fingertips to the small of his back, and everything happens fast after that.  
  
An exchange of bolts, whirred up dust, shouting. You run for the settlement, Mesota providing cover in close pursuit. The pirates by the freighter and those that had closed in on Poe already down, you see four more rush out the entry. You take down two. Jeron, bolting in from the right, two more. Head tilts to scan above, four bodies drop down the sides of the walls. That’s twelve. There could be six more.  
  
“Look out!” Mesota aims above, another body dropping to the side of the wall. That leaves maybe five.  
You make it to the entry, blaster tight on your shoulder, you dare a glance into the center of the small settlement. “One by the well. Two by the group huddled at the center.” You state and Mesota confirms with a scan of his own.  
“Two on the balcony to the right.” He breathes.  
“Where the kriff is Dameron?” You hiss, peering around, noting the advancing backup of lieutenant Willix and the remaining scouts.  
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Sergeant Mesota points up with his blaster and you follow the gesture.  
  
On the roof above the balcony, Poe crawls into position. He’s almost there when a falling shingle gives him away. A split second of a distraction is all you need though, and you and Mesota and everyone else rush to the center, blasters ready. You don’t need to shoot again. The pirates toss their weapons the second they’re aware they’re outnumbered and surrender. Gauntly and trembling definitely not what you’d expected to see when they raise their arms in defeat. Maybe not pirates, after all. Maybe a group of despaired travelers on the run...  
  
“See you brought your A-game.” Poe’s voice draws your attention up. He winks at you from an awkwardly hanging angle, two bodies slumped on the balcony below him. “If you would be so kind.” He smirks and points to his tearing briefs from which he seems to be hanging from the edge of the roof.  
  
You don’t even want to know how. All you know is that now seems a good time to deride. You cross your arms and let him hang, if only for the satisfaction to see him dangle like that, confidence making way for desperation. Likely more for the possible fall than losing what little clothing he has left on the way down. “Commander Dameron, we all know you’re eager to get naked, but really?” You shake your head and Poe’s face returns to a smirk.  
  
“You telling me you’re not enjoying the view?” His tone is so damn cocky, you’d love to just sever the last thread with your blaster.  
“Sergeant. Would you please help Commander Dameron? Going to get medical in here.” You instruct, then break radio silence, at last, tossing the transceiver to Poe when no one answers. “They’re waiting for you."  
Poe grins, clutching with one hand to his briefs. “All clear.”  
“On our way.” Iolo’s voice crackles back.  
“Grab me some extra pants and shirt from the transport, would you?”  
“Why?”  
“I’ll explain later.”  
  
When you return to D’Qar, you report to General Organa. The mission debriefing is held short when you confirm that it was “Just some lowly pirates scoping for anything valuable and replacement parts. Their ship was old. Some of them looked like they’d not eaten a proper meal in weeks. I think they were desperate. Come to think... I’m not even sure they’re pirates. Still strong enough to overrun a settlement. We installed better shields. Offered better weapons. Maybe a patrol now and then. But...”  
“We’re stretched thin.” The General finishes your sentence and you nod. Leia lifts a tired arm to your shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. “Go... eat dinner, Commander. Take a day.” She smiles thinly then dismisses you.  
  
On your way to your quarters, you pass by the hangar, loud laughter catching your attention. You make your way over and see your Squadron and Black Squadron along with maintenance crews in a debriefing of their own.  
“... and then he hung by his tidy whities. If he’d slipped a little more...” Lieutenant Jeron can barely contain another loud laugh.  
“Poe. How exactly did you end up in your underwear again?” Karé pokes fun and Poe hangs his head.  
“I fell into a river.”  
You cross your arms and catch a laugh at the back of your throat. “Now now, Commander. You know that’s not the whole story.”  You wait with a perked brow and a finger tapping on your bicep and Poe stands wide-eyed in defeat.  
  
“Alright. Alright! A Puffer Pig chased me.” He admits and at least half the crews have to catch their bodies somehow to avoid falling over with more laughter. “Look. Those things don’t mess around when you’re in their territory. Got rid of my wet clothes cause they slowed me down.” Poe defends but the laughter doesn’t stop. “Thanks, Commander [Y/L/N].” Poe huffs in pretended offense then winks at you, and you realize that he doesn’t mind the deriding and laughter. If that’s what it takes to lift the spirits around here, then so be it.  
  
“Alright. You can all stop snickering.” Poe smiles. “Let’s go eat.” He dismisses the crews and joins your side, still clad in the spare clothing Iolo had brought from the medical transport. “How’d the mission debriefing go?”  
“Good. Fast.” You keep it short.  
Poe quirks a brow. “The General didn’t ask any questions?”  
You chuckle. “Don’t worry Poe. I left out the more exposing details.” You sigh then frown and Poe takes notice.  
He stops you gently by the arm. You two may joke around a lot, each of you packed with sass and sarcasm, but he knows when to stop. “You alright?”  
You pause to think. “Yeah. Just wondering.”  
“Wondering what?”  
You look around, General Organa’s solemn eyes on mind. “How long this will last.”  
  
Poe inhales and exhales sharply, dark eyes casting down then back up. “Tell you what. Go take a shower. Then meet me back in the hangar with the senior COs and NCOs. Have a drink. Play some cards. I’ll pick up your dinner.”  
You laugh softly. “Commander...” You whisper.  
“Off duty, it’s always Poe.” Poe reminds, still holding your arm.  
“I know.”  
“Good. Go take a shower. Hangar. Dinner. Drinks. Cards.” Poe lets go and makes his way to the mess hall and you shake your head with a smile.  
  
When you return to the X-Wing hangar some thirty minutes later, Mesota, Karé, Snap, and Iolo are already playing cards, everyone's droids in charging stations nearby, even Poe's usually busy little B.B. unit at rest. Poe is messing with some beat up music player he’d found on some mission a few months back. When he finally gets it to work, he shimmies his way to the table and you bite back a laugh. Sometimes, he can be such a dork. A handsome dork. One nonetheless. And one that is now wearing civilian type threads, an outfit you very much like on him, especially that leather jacket of his.  
  
“Commander [Y/L/N]. Thought you forgot about us.” Karé jokes loudly, hint of judgment in her voice and suddenly all eyes are on you.  
  
Out of all the officers here, you’ve always been the one to play things by the book. It’s not on purpose really. Firstly, you’re one of the newer officers to have switched from a steady commission to the Resistance. Second, years in the New Republic Naval Defense Fleet have conditioned you this way. To draw a line not to be crossed no matter how nice the people are. Although you admit, lately you’ve been dipping your toe on the other side. It started with joined officer and noncommissioned officer dinners. Then lead to the occasional night playing cards. There’d even been instances of non-regulation clothing at work just like this morning.  
  
The line is getting blurry and you’re very much aware. But surprisingly, it doesn’t bother you as much as you’d initially thought. These people are your friends. A mixed group of various backgrounds with differing ranks. Friends in arms against a looming threat so great, you cannot afford a hardened attitude in favor of rules. It doesn’t mean disorganization of the whole. Just that the rules are more relaxed regarding cross the ranks relationships.  
  
You smile at Karé and take a seat at last. “Thought I’d give you all a break. But if you’re eager to lose more leave...”  
Sergeant Mesota laughs. “Good thing I wasn’t here last time. I’d have cleared you all out.”  
You quirk a brow. “Actually, you’d have ended up right next to Commander Dameron.” You state confidently and everyone laughs.  
“No. I’d have known when to quit.” Mesota points out. “Only officers lack common sense.” He laughs, then is showered with cards flying his way.  
  
The evening extends into late night. You laugh, you drink, you eat, and you play round after round, talking about everything and nothing. At some point, Iolo bids goodnight. Mesota follows soon after. And when Karé’s eyelids can barely stay open, Snap, too, calls it a night, escorting Captain Kun back to quarters with a proper officer excuse, at which Karé laughs, and you’re certain it’s not out of drunkenness.  
  
“Those two don’t fool anyone.” Poe collects empty glasses and bottles and whatever else in a small crate then folds the table to store it against a wall.  
“Hmmm hmmm... they’re not the only ones.” You snicker and Poe’s ears perk up.  
“Ah yeah? Care to tell who?”  
You scrunch up your face, debating if you should. “Jeron and Willix.”  
“The new junior lieutenants? Good for them. They make a nice couple.”  
  
Poe folds the chairs and stows them on hooks on the wall, waiting for you to get up. When you do, you can’t help but study him. All evening, you’ve had an eye on Poe. He’s told stories and jokes, and now and then he sang along to songs coming from the music player. And all evening, you couldn’t help but think how much you like the sound of his voice and the sound of his laugh. Or how good he smelled whenever he leaned closer to your side, those little brushes with his arm against yours not having gone past either. Suddenly, you’re very aware that you’re alone with him. And that that line is becoming dangerously hazy. Almost nothing left but a wisp of a hint of a trace...  
  
“So...” Poe’s voice snaps you back to the now. You watch as he secures a bottle of dark spirit in a lockbox next to his tools then turns off the music player at last. “Either I’m actually getting better at poker or...” Poe turns to you and walks your way. The sudden silence enhanced by the heavy thuds of his boots, he stops just half a pace in front of you. “You lost on purpose to let me win, which, by the way, is against the house rules.” His eyes study you intently and you can’t help a gulp.  
  
“So what if I did?”  
Poe steps closer to you, playing with the ball chain around your neck with one hand while his other settles on your hip. “What happened to not breaking the rules?”  
Your eyes follow his fingers on your chain to your tags where Poe’s thumb ends up tracing the letters of your name over and over and you wonder what else his hands can do. “I didn’t break any rules. Just bent them by not revealing my hand.”  
  
Poe keeps his hold on tags and hip, expression between contemplation and something pressing. “And? Are we bending the rules right now?”  
You gulp again and look up, your eyes locking with Poe’s, the hand that’s on your hip searching for the edge of your tank top, and when he finds it, he lifts it just enough so he can trace lazy circles with his thumb on your skin.  “I’m not sure.” You whisper and Poe’s hands pull back immediately. The threshold of consent is a confident yes not a doubting maybe.  
  
He takes a step, exhaling a deflating breath. He was sure. So sure.  
“I mean, I want to... but...” You play with Poe’s tags now, your thumb tracing over his old service number when he was part of the New Republic Defense Fleet. You don’t even know why either of you still wear these. It’s just a reminder of what you've left behind.  
  
Poe’s eyes follow your fingers this time, and it dawns on him why there’s hesitation. Why it’s a doubting maybe. He steps closer again and lifts your face by the chin. “We’re allowed.” He whispers, and it’s as though all you needed was to hear those words out loud, because Maker, they’ve carved heavy tracks in your mind for weeks now. Ever since the pool if not longer. You’re not New Republic Defense Fleet anymore. You’re Resistance. YOU ARE ALLOWED.  
  
You’ve never made it back faster to private officer’s quarters, Poe holding a firm hand around yours. You’re a tangled mess once the door closes behind you. Your hands in his coal-black hair, his around your waist, Poe manages to toe off his boots on the way to his bed. Stumbling mess, really, but you don’t mind, the way you laugh at his impatience when he kneels to pull your boots from your feet.  
  
There’s no more hesitation when you let him push you farther towards his bed. No more hesitation when he peels off clothes. Jackets. Shirts. Pants. Standard issue undergarments and socks. First yours. Then his. He’s definitely not hesitant when he urges you center of the mattress. Every instinct to take it slow had been abandoned in the hangar once you’d whispered: “What are we waiting for?”  
  
Every instinct to take his time still abandoned the moment he feels your body against his. He wants to taste you, feel every inch of your skin below his lips, draw sweet noises from your lips. He’s exploring fast and hard when a gasp has him stop, lust-blown eyes catching your reaction. Why is he in such a rush? You don’t have anywhere to be except in this moment. Here and now.  
  
Poe’s determined to get you there but he doesn’t want it fast and hard. He’s done that. And those had been fun. But with you, he wants to take his time. Because to him, you’re not some quick and done encounter. To him, you’re more than selfish need. He wants to have all of you and he wants to have it right. So he slows down. Takes his time. His senses are hungry for you and he doesn’t want to miss a single sensation once he starts to consume everything you have to offer.  
  
Poe invades every of your senses, too. Touch, smell, sight, sound, taste. He kisses over every inch of skin, not holding back sated moans. And when he’s done, he does it again, his scent clinging to your skin with each passing brush of his lips and tongue. He flips you more than once, which makes you laugh, but that soon gives way to sweetened sighs when he lingers longer and longer with each kiss. Tongue pressing against heated skin, he truly does not miss any kissable surface. And when he finally kisses his way to between your legs, sweetened sighs turn to loud moans.  
  
It isn’t until your fingers threaten to rip the curls from his head that he stops to take in the trembling mess you’ve become under his hold. He smiles a wicked smile, one thick brow raised in amusement. “Just one more.” He teases and you brace yourself, tightened fists tearing sheets from corners.  
  
Soon, his name falls like a chanting prayer. “Poe. Poe! POE!” You gasp, head thrashing side to side under an angled arm. You swear, you hear him laugh when he kisses his way back north, and you wish you had the strength for more than just a push against his chest, which makes him laugh again, but only for a second.  
  
A gentle hand cradles your neck. A strong one pulls one leg around his waist. He kisses across jaw and tensing muscles right into the curve of your neck. He needs you. He needs you now. And he says so. “I need you, please.” He whispers. “Please?” And you allow him in.  
  
Joint held breath, you exhale at the feeling once your bodies are one. He starts with slow thrusts, holding his weight on his forearms. Examining your features, he notes the way your lips part with shallow breaths, the sweat collecting at your hairline, the way your eyes squeeze shut with each slow return and how they open with each slow withdrawal.  
  
Poe is passion and lust. But this is more than passion. This is more than lust. The way he gazes between your bodies to catch every micro reaction, it’s more than a quick and done. No one’s ever looked at you this way. Endearing desire. He’s making love to you, and you’re reciprocating in ways to let him know you’re making love to him. It’s in the way your legs wrap around his waist and you return your hips to meet with his, and in the way your hands roam the width of his back. Slow and tender. Gentle nails.  
  
You need him as much as he needs you.  
Closer.  
Closer.  
You pull him closer, Poe capturing your hands, fingers intertwining at the side of your head. He kisses your lips, seeking more connection, but his breath is unbearably hot. You gasp for air, need for cooling relief because he’s just so damn hot on you, his whole body radiating heat as though he’s the midday sun on a clear day. It doesn’t help that his weight is on you. Heavy, with urgency to hold you in place because he needs you. Closer. Deeper. Faster. Harder. And you need him, too. Closer. Deeper. Faster. Harder.  
  
You feel the edge tearing away. Like fabric ripping, pulled to pieces. Unraveling space and time. Stars, moons, and the black void in between giving way to an unimaginable force. Let it. Let it tear away. Give yourself to him. If the universe is to tear at its seams at this very moment, then now is as good as time as any.  
  
Let it rip to shreds and consume you whole as one because that’s what you are right now. Right here. Give yourself to him because he does the same for you, the way he cradles your body into his in a tight embrace once he starts chasing his release. Let yourself fall into whatever remains once stars and moons and the void disappear. He’s there to catch you. “POE!” His name rips into the still of the night. And so does yours, with a growl and cuss to the Maker, then everything is at rest.  
  
Poe’s forehead meets yours, his nose squishing yours as you both gasp for air. Arms and legs falling to sides, you’re an unraveled mess below Poe, but you don’t care. No one’s ever made you feel this way. Endearingly desired.  
  
Poe kisses the tip of your nose then pulls himself off your body, an index ghosting your features before he kisses your shoulder. “You ok?” He whispers, genuine worry laced in his voice.  
Your eyes flutter open and you smile. “Very.”  
A comfortable silence settles between you, Poe pulling you into his arms. He traces lines over your body, waiting because he can almost feel the question turning your gears. “Stay.” He whispers before you have a chance to ask.  
You look up and are met with confident eyes. Not the cocky or sassy or ego inflated type. But the warm, knowing 'you want the same as him' eyes. You smile, tracing his lips with your fingertips, and nod. “Ok."


End file.
